


Hope and a Promise

by Cobrilee



Series: Sing A Song of Everything [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Derek thinks they didn't, Description of injury involving blood, Implied Violence, M/M, Sort of a breakup fic, Stiles sings karaoke, Stiles thinks they broke up, There are lyrics at the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 23:22:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9350783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cobrilee/pseuds/Cobrilee
Summary: Derek will always do what he thinks is necessary to keep Stiles safe. Stiles will always fight him on it. They'll always come back together, even when it hurts, because it hurts more when they're apart. This is what Stiles hopes for. This is what Derek has promised.





	

**Author's Note:**

> There are lyrics at the beginning when Stiles is singing karaoke, but that's the last you'll see of them. The song he's singing is called [You Lovin' Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v6v_SfgqqVU) by Hal Ketchum, and while I know most people skip past the lyrics and don't listen to the song, I would encourage you to at least listen to the first verse/chorus. A friend read the fic and listened to the song afterward, and said it really changed the tone of the beginning of the story for her.

_ “You said ‘someday I'm gonna break your heart’_  
_ The first time that we met_  
_ Were you warning me?  
_ _ Just seeing how close I'd get? _

_ We laid down in a lover’s sigh as a million years of time rolled by  
_ _ How can I be hoping that it's not over yet?” _

The soulful, mournful ache in Stiles’ voice yanks the air from Derek's lungs with a violent punch. He doesn't want this. He isn't ready. 

Ready or not, here he comes. Apparently. 

_ “I can't hold on to the night_  
_ Things change_  
_ Ain't nothing ever stays the same  
_ _ You're gone as far as I can see _

_ If you feel like letting go_  
_ Honey I don't wanna be the last to know_  
_ I wanna hold on tight to the sweet memory  
_ _ Of you loving me”_

He wants to turn around and leave. Now. Nownownow. It's only been two months, which isn't enough time, not nearly enough. He  _ had  _ told Stiles he'd break his heart. He just hadn't known he'd be breaking his own in the process. 

_ “Let the good times find their own way home _ __  
_ I'd kiss you goodbye but you're already gone _ __  
_ Cryin' now, just a tryin' now to wash me away _ __  


_ When you look back on the times we've had _ __  
_ Let the good ones wash away the bad _ __  
_ Don't look back on these bitter words we spoke today” _ __  


He's frozen to the spot; he can't walk away, can't look away, but that doesn't stop him from being terrified that Stiles will look up and see him, and give him the look of contempt and disgust that will break Derek's heart all over again. 

But Stiles doesn’t look up, not until he’s worked his way through the chorus another couple times and the music fades out. The crowd applauds, as it should because Stiles has an amazing voice that he’d kept hidden from Derek for years. He still remembers the first time Stiles suddenly started singing, something bouncy and happy like the Spice Girls, and Scott had smiled, and Derek was shocked. He’d never known Stiles could sing.

_ “You sing?” _

_ “Dude, yeah he does. He sings great.” _

_ “I heard him for myself, Scott. I know he can sing. I just don’t know why he never has before.” _

_ Stiles offers him a half-hearted smile. “I used to sing all the time. It drove my dad nuts because I’d sing something over and over again, even if all I knew was one or two lines of the song.” _

_ “I’ve known you for four years. Why haven’t I ever heard you sing?” _

_ The words hang on the air, unanswered, as Stiles chews on his lip. “Probably because I stopped having a reason to sing,” he offers, voice subdued. “After Scott got bit, life pretty much went to hell. I wasn’t going to start belting out 90’s pop hits while we were trying to stop a murderous kanima, y’know?” _

He’d sung more often after that, humming under his breath while he worked until the humming became words and the words crescendoed into him belting out his favorite songs at the top of his lungs. Derek thinks that’s when he fell in love with Stiles. Not that he hadn’t been falling in love with him for years, but that’s when he allowed himself to let it happen, to believe in the possibility of forever.

Because it was him, when Stiles’ flirting had become more blatant, he’d warned him. _ “I’ll only end up hurting you if you keep pushing this.”  _ Because his relationships were always pain, always a disaster. Someone always got hurt.

_ “Maybe I like a little pain,” he’d purred. _

_ “I don’t want to break your heart.” _

_ “Trust me, Derek, my heart is in good hands. I can take care of myself, I’m a big boy.” His voice turned sultry. “I could show you just how big, if you’d like.” _

_ “Stiles. We’re in the middle of the high school.” _

_ He’d shrugged, an impish grin lighting his beautiful face. “Extra credit for their sex education class.” _

_ Derek had laughed. Stiles was irrepressible, irresistible. His sass and his knowing smirks were getting under Derek’s skin, just as they always had, only moreso now.  _

The warning slid away, neither of them mentioning it again, but it’s clear that Stiles has never forgotten it. Even if he hadn’t written the words to the song himself, they could have been written for them. Maybe he  _ had _ been trying to see if Stiles would back off, but he should have known better. Stiles could never resist a challenge, not when Derek was the one issuing it.

He’s still waiting, still holding his breath, still wondering when the moment will be that Stiles sees him. Wondering if Stiles will even acknowledge he’s there, or if he’ll get up and storm out, or if he’ll pretend that everything is fine.

Then the moment comes. Stiles slides the mic back in the stand, does a little bow for the drunken, screaming crowd, and takes a step toward the edge of the stage. His gaze lifts toward the bar, probably already trying to decide what he wants, and he freezes. 

Derek swallows painfully when Stiles’ golden gaze locks with his own, the honey glow turning into petrified amber. His whole body stiffens, his shoulders go up, and he’s prepared for battle. It drags across Derek’s chest like the sharpest blade. 

He waits, unable to retreat to save his life, and then Stiles is there, right in front of him, a disdainful smirk spreading his lips in a cruel mockery of the smiles he used to rain down on Derek like sunshine. “Well well, if the prodigal son hasn’t returned,” he acknowledges coolly, and gestures at the bartender. The bartender apparently knows Stiles, because he returns in moments with a drink that matches the color of Stiles’ eyes. “Are you just here to get our hopes up again?”

Derek doesn’t flinch. He knows he deserves this. “I didn’t leave  _ you _ , Stiles. I left Beacon Hills.”

“Right,” he scoffs, tipping the drink back and taking a long swallow. Derek doesn’t watch the way his throat works as he drains the liquid from the glass. He  _ doesn’t _ . “I think I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve left Beacon Hills, Derek.” 

Not  _ Der _ anymore. Or any of the three dozen nicknames Stiles had liked to drop on him. Derek was what Stiles called him when he was mad. When he was hurt. When he was trying to ice him out. “At some point we both have to recognize there’s nothing to keep you here. You keep coming back, for whatever reason, but you never stay. Not even for those you  _ love _ .” His mouth twists sourly, his words are sharp and bitter, and Derek regrets… Well, everything.

“I left  _ because _ I love you,” he says, voice low and strained, and Stiles’ face goes through a number of expressions before settling on something stony. 

“You left because you think I’m weak and that I have to be protected. That I can’t protect myself.”

“I left to keep you from getting killed!” Derek snaps. “I left because being in love with you was putting you in the line of fire and I couldn’t live with that!”

“Jesus, I am so not fucking drunk enough for this shit,” Stiles groans, and he gestures at the bartender for another drink. He’s slamming it back the second the bartender puts it in his hand, and Derek reaches out to stop him from gesturing for another. “Get your fucking hand off me,” Stiles hisses, yanking his arm back, and despite the ache in his chest, Derek stands his ground.

“Don’t do this.” It’s a command, not a request, but his voice is soft, pleading. 

“Why not?” Stiles rails out at him. “ _ You _ broke up with  _ me _ !”

Derek is already shaking his head, even though he knows Stiles won’t see it any other way. “I never broke up with you,” he argues. “I told you why I was going, what I was doing.”

Stiles pushes him away with surprising strength, his eyes flashing with fury. “It doesn’t fucking matter, Derek! You  _ left _ me! I  _ begged  _ you not to run away again, and I  _ never _ beg, and you left anyway! You knew you were breaking my fucking heart and  _ you still left me _ !”

It’s too loud for them to have commanded the attention of the entire bar, but their escalating argument has gained them a number of wide-eyed stares and speculative murmurs. “Maybe we should go outside,” Derek suggests, trying for calm when his heart is racing furiously. He hadn’t expected this to go well, and if he’d had his choice, he would have rather not had this conversation in a bar. As is the case with many things, however, this is the hand that life has dealt him and he’s going to try to make the best of it.

Stiles looks like he wants to argue, but in the end he doesn’t. He glares at Derek before stalking his way to the back entrance, shoving the door open wide and smirking when it swings back so fast it nearly hits Derek in the face. “So what, do you think you’re going to walk back in the door and I’m going to throw myself at your feet?”

“You never threw yourself at my feet,” Derek mutters, but Stiles doesn’t even crack the thin press of his lips. He stands there with his arms crossed over his chest defensively, teeth ground together so tightly that a muscle in his jaw is ticking. It draws Derek’s attention and he’s distracted for a moment before pulling himself out of those thoughts. “I wanted you to know I’ll always come back for you. I promised I would, and I’m living up to that promise.”

_ “Derek, you can’t keep doing this! You can’t keep running away every time something bad happens!” _

_ “Stiles, don’t you get it? I’m not running away. I don’t want to leave, you know that-” _

_ “Do I?” he interjects, wearing his sarcasm as armor to deflect the fact that he’s shaking, that his eyes are wide and glassy, and Derek is nearly sick enough from the sight to contemplate staying, but- _

_ “If I stay, you’re going to die. You came too close already and it nearly destroyed me. I have to lead Reaver away from you, get him someplace where I can take him down and you won’t get caught up in it.” _

_ Stiles rubs at his arms, and Derek can’t help but remember the blood twisting and curving over his muscles, dripping down his arms. His wrists had been strung up above his head when Derek found him, deep slashes in his pale skin feeding the tributaries that snaked their way down in crimson ribbons. The wounds still aren’t healed; they won’t ever be. The skin will mend, will stitch itself together, but the scars will be there every day for the rest of Stiles’ life. _

_ “So, what? I got kidnapped. If we’re keeping count, I still have, like, a dozen more kidnappings to go before I’m caught up to you,” he shoots back, and Derek’s claws prick at his fingertips, trying to push through the skin at the same time his fangs threaten to descend. “I don’t need you to protect me from this psycho. I’m the smart one, remember? I’m the brains. You need me.” _

_ “That’s not in question,” Derek snarls, “but staying here is  _ out _ of the question. It’s me he wants, it’s me he came for. The only reason you’re involved is because he saw a way to hurt me before he kills me. If I leave, he’ll leave too. He’ll leave you alone. That’s the only thing that matters.” _

_ “If you leave here, if you leave your pack, the odds are just as high that he’ll kill you as they are that you’ll kill him!” Stiles shouts, fear lacing his voice; the scent of tears is layered underneath his anxiety and anger. “How do you expect me to handle that, Derek? If you die, if you die because you’re alone, because you led him away from me, how do you think I’m going to be able to survive that?” _

_ “Because you’re strong, Stiles,” Derek sighs wearily. “You’re stronger than any human I’ve ever met, maybe even stronger than any werewolf I’ve ever met. You’ll survive because you’re made to.” _

_ “I won’t survive losing you, Derek,” he whispers, voice shaking, and Derek gives in to the need to wrap his arms around Stiles, to hold his mate close to his heart, one last time. “Please. I’m begging you, please don’t leave. Please don’t leave me.” _

_ “I’ll be back, I promise,” Derek whispers, lips pressed to Stiles’ temple as he trembles in Derek’s arms. “I’m not leaving you. I’ll never leave  _ you _.” _

_ Stiles pulls back, his eyes going cold as he wipes at the tears that are now trickling down his face, using the back of his arm to swipe them away impatiently. “If you leave, don’t bother coming back,” he says, and his voice is lifeless, like he’s already given up. Like he knows there’s no point to saying the words, but he’s going to anyway, because it’s what he does. “I can’t go through this anymore, Derek. I can’t watch you continue to leave because you think it’s what’s best for everyone. I can’t spend my life wondering when I’m going to watch you walk away for the last time.” _

He’d almost stayed. But in the end, his love for Stiles and fear for his safety won out over his fear that he’d lose the man he loved in a different way. 

Now, Stiles is impossibly still in front of him, but Derek can be patient. He can act like it, anyway. So he waits.

“You came back  _ this _ time, Der,” he says tiredly, but he says  _ Der _ , and Derek all of a sudden has hope. “What happens the next time you leave? Or the one after that? Or are you going to tell me you’ll never leave again?” His tone carries a touch of acid, a touch of withering disdain.

“I can’t,” Derek replies honestly. “You have to know that if it’s a choice between your safety and our relationship, I’ll always choose your safety. I love you too much to do otherwise.”

Stiles exhales angrily, throwing himself against the cool brick wall of the bar. “I love you too, damn it! I wouldn’t have been so fucking pissed at you for the past two months if I didn’t!”

Derek takes a few moments to study Stiles, this man he’s been in love with for years. He looks tired, but he’s coiled tightly, anxious energy thrumming underneath his skin, making him practically vibrate as he tries to lean casually against the wall. Derek’s eyes skim over the shadows under his eyes, the thinning in his face, the too-long hair that’s sideswept instead of his usual spiky look. He looks drawn, aged, and Derek knows he’s partially responsible.

“Your safety is something I will never make a concession on,” Derek reiterates quietly. “But there are others I’m willing to make.”

Stiles’ eyes stop darting around from the people walking through the parking lot and over the reflection of neon lights shimmering on wet blacktop, and come back to focus on him warily. “Like what?”

“No more unilateral decisions.” Stiles inhales unsteadily; that had been a huge sticking point. Stiles lashed out every time Derek took matters into his own hands without listening to his pack, Stiles in particular. “And if it’s feasible, if I need to leave, I’ll ask you to come with me.”

Whiskey-colored eyes stare back at him, troubled. “You’re assuming I’m going to forgive you and let you back into my life.”

“I’m not, actually.” He sticks his hands in his pockets, hunching his shoulders forward. He knows it’s a sign he’s vulnerable; knows more, that Stiles will recognize it for what it is. “I’m letting you know what I’m willing to compromise on if you  _ do _ let me back into your life. I love you, Stiles, and I’m sorry I’ve hurt you. I’m not sorry I’ve kept you safe. If you need time, if you need to learn how to trust me again, I understand. If you decide the risk of me leaving again outweighs what we mean to each other, I’ll understand that, too.”

“I  _ do _ need time.” He turns his face into the brick, takes a shaky breath, then another, then another, until his breathing is steady and even. “Living every day, wondering if you’re going to come back-it’s hell, Der. Wondering if we’d hear from some pack passing through that you’d been taken down by a rogue omega-that was hell, too. I won’t let you do that to me again.” 

As he turns away from the brick, Derek scans him quickly. His eyes are wary, mistrustful, but there’s a glimmer in there, too. Somewhere in the depths, there’s hope. There’s need. There’s love. 

It’s enough.

“I have my phone again,” Derek informs him, pulling it from his pocket for Stiles to see. “If you want to talk sometime…” He lets the words trail off. Stiles is making a concession here, too, and Derek refuses to push him for more. 

Nodding jerkily, Stiles runs his hand through his hair. “Yeah. Yeah, that’d be good. We need that, anyway. I mean, I don’t know what’s going to happen with us, but neither of us will be at peace if we don’t talk to each other.” He huffs out a tiny, mirthless laugh. “I know I certainly haven’t had a single day of peace in the last two months.”

The pain in his voice, in his eyes, pulls at Derek, makes him ache. “Any time you need me, I’m here. I promise.”

“And we know you keep your promises,” Stiles acknowledges softly. 

They’re quiet for a few moments before Derek takes a step backward. “I should go. I barged in on you, even if it was unplanned. I’ll let you get back to your evening.” He’s almost turned around when he feels it; the brush of Stiles’ fingers against his own as he reaches out, grabbing Derek’s hand. Looking up from where their hands are joined, Derek sees a look of near-desperation in Stiles’ eyes. 

“I mean it, Der. I still love you. Always have. Always will.”

“I know,” he murmurs, and before he can stop himself, he’s pulling his hand away and lifting it, skimming his thumb over Stiles’ cheek as his fingers curl under the jaw he’s kissed a thousand times. His thumb traces over the moles he’s memorized until it ghosts across the full lower lip he’s bitten and tugged on with his teeth, eliciting groans and whimpers that electrify him.

“Not fair,” Stiles whispers as he pulls back, and Derek smiles slightly.

“I’ll talk to you soon, Stiles.” He hesitates, then leans in to brush his lips lightly against Stiles’, a butterfly kiss that’s over almost before it’s begun. 

When he lifts his head he sees hope burning behind the tears in Stiles’ eyes, stronger and more brightly than before, and he takes the memory of it with him as he turns and walks away. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please come say hi to me on my [Tumblr](http://cobrilee.tumblr.com/)! We can talk Sterek and fic and how much these boys have ruined/bettered our lives. :)


End file.
